


Interviewing at Kinnetik

by mysid



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9272504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysid/pseuds/mysid
Summary: After reading several stories in which Justin meets Brian a few years later than canon—often when Justin gets a job wherever Brian works—I got inspired to write about Brian interviewing a new potential hire for Kinnetik's art department--in his unique Brian way.





	

**Interviewing at Kinnetik**

“Mr. Kinney should be with you shortly,” the pretty blonde woman said. “Could I get you anything while you’re waiting?” 

“No, thank you.” The truth be told, he’d love a glass of water. It seemed like he’d talked and talked during his interview with Steven Durand, the head of Kinnetik’s art department, and now his throat was a bit dry. But a dry throat would be less of a distraction than a full bladder during this, the second and far more crucial half of his interview, the interview with the agency’s owner, Mr. Kinney. Mr. Durand had brought his portfolio into Mr. Kinney’s office several minutes ago and instructed him to wait. 

He found it very satisfying that his art portfolio was the potential key to landing his first post-graduation job. If his father had had his way, he never would have taken a single art class. 

“Art is a _hobby_ , not a career,” his father had said. “If you want me to pay your tuition, you’ll major in something practical, something in which you can actually earn a living.”

And so, he’d majored in business, his father’s first choice for his major—but he’d also majored in art. The double major hadn’t been easy to pull off, but it had definitely been worth it in terms of personal satisfaction. And if he succeeded in landing a job in the art department of Kinnetik or some other ad agency, he would be able to prove to his father that it had been worth it from a practical standpoint as well.

It had been his marketing professor who had recommended this particular career path. She’d pointed out that his artistic talents combined with his burgeoning business know-how made him an ideal catch for an advertising agency or similar business. Until that point, he’d simply thought of his business classes as the price of admission to college and the art classes that he really wanted to take. 

He saw Mr. Durand at the glass door of Mr. Kinney’s office, but Durand paused with one hand on the door—obviously still talking to Kinney. 

He took a deep breath— _“Almost showtime.”_ He tried to relax by reminding himself that he hadn’t really wanted this job anyway—he was only interviewing in Pittsburgh to make his mother happy, _and_ to practice before his New York interviews—so it didn’t really matter if Mr. Kinney liked him or not. But lying to oneself never really worked. He may not have wanted to work at Kinnetik when he first decided to apply, but after researching the firm and seeing their innovative campaigns, he’d definitely been intrigued. He'd especially loved the graphics on the most recent Liberty Air campaign. Besides, there were definite advantages to working in a gay-friendly environment, and you couldn’t get more gay-friendly than a firm owned by an openly gay man. _“A bathhouse. An advertising agency in a former bathhouse. You can’t get more ‘out’ than that.”_

Of course his father would probably have a fit when he found out that his son might be working with “a bunch of fags”, but now that he didn’t need his father’s tuition money anymore, what Dad thought didn’t matter. _“Keep telling yourself that and maybe you’ll believe it someday.”_

“We should have these changes for you to look at before the end of the day,” Durand was saying as he left Kinney’s office carrying a sheaf of papers and a computer memory stick. 

“You’ll have them ready for me to look at by _three_ ,” Mr. Kinney said from inside his office. “I’m leaving early today.”

“Three,” Durand confirmed. He threw a quick smile at his waiting job applicant before looking back at Kinney again, “Just remember, another person in the art department will help us keep up with the short deadlines you like to throw at us.”

“Send him in,” Kinney said in a resigned tone. “I’ll promise not to bite.”

“You’re up,” Durand said with a grin. “Let me know when Brian’s done with him,” he said to Kinney’s blonde assistant as he headed back toward the art department.

Gathering up both his courage and the small faux-leather folder which held his resume and college transcript, he quickly made his way to the glass door of Mr. Kinney’s office. He paused for a brief moment, wondering if he should knock, but Mr. Kinney threw him half a glance and he knew that announcing his presence with a knock would be unnecessary.

Kinney was standing behind his desk, looking down upon the open art portfolio. Rather than going through the photos of his pieces one by one, as Mr. Durand had done, Mr. Kinney had spread the photos out and seemed to be rearranging them into groups according to his own whim. 

“Did you start with existing photographs for these, or did you take the photographs too?” Kinney asked. 

He stepped closer to the desk and saw that Kinney was examining a set of photo manipulations he’d done of sights on campus.

“I took the photos. I took a photography class last year and really enjoyed it.”

“And you got complete creative control that way,” Kinney added as he shifted the photographs on his desk again.

“I’ve done photo manipulations with existing photographs too—just to experiment—but it didn’t seem right to put something in my portfolio unless I’d done the whole thing.”

“It’s going to be pretty rare that you’ll get to do ‘the whole thing’ in an advertising agency. Most of your projects will be collaborative, and, at the beginning at least, all you’ll be doing is carrying out someone else’s ideas.”

Saying, _“Yeah, that’s what I figured,”_ didn’t seem like the right answer to help get him the job, so he said instead, “Collaboration feeds creativity. Working with others helps create new ideas.” A slight smirk on Mr. Kinney’s face revealed that he knew that answer to be trite and rehearsed, so he quickly added, “The single-minded artist working alone in his garret, taking out little time for human interaction is a fairly modern invention. For most of history, artists and artisans worked closely with others, in workshops not unlike your art department. So, to answer your unspoken question, no, I don’t think it will be creatively stifling to work in close collaboration with others.”

“I see that you passed your art history courses,” Kinney said condescendingly, but at least the smirk was gone.

Kinney suddenly pulled out the one photo he’d most agonized over the decision to include, a photo manipulation of a portrait of his best friend. From the smiling expression, to the multi-part repetition, to the pop-art bright colors, it was unmistakably a knock-off of Warhol’s famous portrait of Marilyn Monroe.

“A bit derivative of Warhol, don’t you think?” Kinney asked.

He tried the same explanation he’d given Durand, “I prefer to call it an homage. After all, they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Kinnetik doesn’t imitate; we innovate,” Mr. Kinney said sharply.

Rebuke noted, he decided to come clean about the inspiration behind that piece. “The truth is, I had a professor who was an absolute Warhol fanatic. I did _that_ hoping he’d give it an ‘A’.”

“And did he?”

“He did.”

Kinney actually looked up and smiled at that. “An artist who knows how to give the client what he wants. It looks like we won’t have to teach you that lesson at least.”

He couldn’t help but smile back. Kinney was _gorgeous_. Tall, well-built, and dressed to make the best of both—he’d noticed that the moment he’d walked into Kinney’s office. Since then, he’d had plenty of time to appreciate that Kinney’s coloring was a well-matched palette of chestnut-brown hair, hazel eyes, lightly-tanned skin, and raspberry lips. In profile, his features were even an uncanny match to Michelangelo’s _David_ — and Lord knew he drooled over _David_ just as much as the next fag art student. When Kinney added a smile to the mix, it effectively defused his air of inapproachability. In fact, the most difficult part of taking this job just might be remembering not to hit on the boss.

He took advantage of the opportunity to check out Kinney more thoroughly when his potential boss returned his gaze to the photographs. A fitted shirt left no doubt that well-defined pecs and firm abs lay beneath. Expensive looking slacks skimmed well-defined thigh muscles. His gaze lingered at crotch-level just a moment too long before common sense belatedly warned him to look up again. Mr. Kinney was watching him, smirking in amusement.

Kinney quirked one eyebrow and asked, “Like what you see?”

“I wasn’t—I was just—”

“Relax,” Kinney said as he piled up the photos and returned them to the portfolio. Kinney then sat behind his desk and clicked on his computer’s mouse to bring up something on the screen; it was the sample commercial he and two partners had produced for their senior year marketing seminar. “‘Play hard; study harder.’ Interesting slogan for a college that doesn’t have a party school reputation,” Kinney noted.

“Hence the reason it wasn’t the other way around,” he defended, “and we thought it fairly accurate.” 

“Did you come up with the slogan?”

“No, one of my partners did. I was in charge of filming and editing.”

“In the party scene, what color are the plastic cups?”

A seemingly bizarre question, but now that he’d taken a seat in front of Kinney’s desk, he couldn’t see the computer screen and had to answer from memory.

“Blue.”

“Why?”

“It’s one of the school colors.”

“And?”

“And I wanted visual reminders which school the commercial was for. It’s the same reason the main character wears a school sweatshirt while she’s studying.”

“Good. Just making sure it wasn’t random. I like attention to detail. Although I would have put her in a school fitted-tee— _and_ been tempted to use a good-looking guy instead.”

Kinney’s gaze swept over him and lingered just long enough to imply that his job candidate could have served just as well in front of the camera as behind it. He felt a slight blush burning his cheeks and cursed his fair skin.

“So, where else are you interviewing?” Kinney asked, suddenly businesslike again.

“Wheeler & Kelley, New Way, and Levy Brothers.”

“All in New York,” Kinney noted.

“Yes.”

“So are serious about Kinnetik, or is this just your practice interview before you interview in New York?”

“No, I’m very serious. I’d really appreciate an opportunity to work here.”

“Why?”

“I want to work somewhere that will challenge me, where I’ll be a part of doing interesting work. Kinnetik’s smaller size will work in my favor in that respect. And Kinnetik has some of the most innovative campaigns out there,” —yeah, it was laying on the flattery, but it was true— “and I want to be a part of that.”

“And the fact that we’re here and not in New York?”

He briefly considered a cock and bull story about how Pittsburgh was “home,” and he was glad to be back, but sounding _too_ desperate to work here wouldn’t help him negotiate the best deal if he did get a job offer. Besides, Mr. Kinney had already proved himself capable of seeing through bullshit.

“I’m originally from here, and my family is here. I haven’t yet decided if that’s a plus or a minus in regards to working here.” He suspected that it was a minus—he and his father merely tolerated each other, and his mother was already dropping hints about fixing him up the son of “a really sweet woman I met at PFLAG”— but working at Kinnetik might make putting up with his parents worthwhile.

Kinney smiled at that. “And what if Kinnetik were to expand to New York within the next few years? Would you be at all interested in moving to the New York office?”

 _That_ sounded like the best of both worlds. “How soon are you thinking of expanding?”

“It’s still two to five years away, so it’s just theoretical at this point, but—”

“Well, there’s no way for me to really know how I’d feel in a few years time. Maybe I’ll put down roots here and want to stay, maybe I’ll have already moved on, but if you were to ask me now, yes, I’d definitely move with Kinnetik to New York. So, theoretically,” he smiled, “yes, I’d be interested in moving with the company.”

Kinney nodded. “Job’s yours if you want it. When are you interviewing in New York?”

“Next week. Tuesday and Wednesday.”

“Call Steven on Friday and tell him your decision.” Kinney stood and extended a hand. “You won’t like Wheeler & Kelley. You’ll only do drudge work for the first two years minimum. You might like New Way, but I think you’ll get more out of working here.”

“Thank you.” He felt a bit stunned—had felt that way since hearing, _“Job’s yours.”_ “I really appreciate the offer.”

“Then _accept_ the offer and then do a good job. _That’s_ the best way to show your appreciation. Now, find your way back to the art department, and let Steven take you to lunch on my expense account as he is undoubtedly dying to do.”

Brian watched his new future employee go out the glass door—he had an ass worth watching—and then turned his attention back to his computer screen. He shifted the computer mouse and clicked to open a different window on screen. While checking that Liberty Air’s flights were still running on time, he hit “1” and “send” on his cell phone.

“Hey.”

“No, everything’s fine; I’ll be able to make my flight. I’m just checking that you’ll make yours.”

“I’ll be getting into Toronto about forty minutes before you, so why don’t you meet me at the car rental building. I can get the car while—”

“No.” Brian began to grin. “No, rent your own car if you want to drive.”

He laughed. “In your dreams, blond boy.”

“Good, actually. I think we found the person we needed in the art department. He reminds me of a certain former VanGard intern.”

“No, brunet, but he does have a cute ass.”

“Really? You just might have to prove that to me tonight. Before you head to the airport, why don’t you get your new blue butt plug—”

He laughed again. “But Sunshine, the threat of a strip search is half the fun.”

“OK, OK.”

His smile softened. “Me too.”

“Later.”

 

_\--written July 2009_

**Author's Note:**

> What? I never said that the job candidate in the story would be Justin, did I? When did _you_ figure out that it wasn’t him?


End file.
